


quiet is the loudest noise of all

by flaneuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuse/pseuds/flaneuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex is the only time that Stiles—wordy, mouthy, Adderall-addicted, literally cannot shut up to save his life Stiles—is quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	quiet is the loudest noise of all

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try my hand at Derek/Stiles, so here's a little drabble.

Sex is the only time that Stiles—wordy, mouthy, Adderall-addicted, literally cannot shut up to save his life Stiles—is quiet.

When they first fucked, up against Derek’s newly refurbished kitchen counter after months of dancing around each other, Derek thought he’d have to gag the kid. He was actually looking forward to it—not the gagging, but the litany of ‘fuck’ and ‘please’ and straight-up moaning coming from the kid’s obscenely red lips.

But instead, he was greeted with quiet.

Stiles’ eyes were screwed shut; he was nervous, so nervous despite wanting it so much, and he was biting down on his lip so hard that Derek tasted tangy, coppery blood when he licked into his mouth. But even after Stiles had calmed down, after Derek bottomed out, hips fit snugly against Stiles’ pelvis, there was quiet.

Stiles had his head thrown back and his legs locked around Derek’s thighs, and his arms wrapped around Derek. One hand was cradling the nape of Derek’s neck, clutching Derek to him so that Derek’s nose could burrow into the dip of Stiles’ collarbone. The other was gripping his shoulder, nails digging in deep with every well-timed thrust of Derek’s hips.

But if Derek was worried that he wouldn’t be able to tell if Stiles was enjoying himself, he was wrong. With every cant of Stiles’ hips, the way he twisted his fingers into Derek’s hair and just pulled—and god if that didn’t make Derek growl deep in his chest and just thrust harder—and the way Stiles would let out these breathy little moans, Derek understood.

He never thought he’d ever have to deal in nuances with Stiles. He didn’t even think the kid understood was a nuance was. But here, up against Derek’s kitchen counter of all places, he finally got it.

Whatever weird, quiet intensity they had built upon itself until they both came, Derek following Stiles over almost immediately, with Derek’s face buried into Stiles’ neck, and Stiles digging gouges into Derek’s back. Derek was almost a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to keep those marks as physical, tangible proof that he was Stiles’ mate, and that nobody besides Stiles would ever touch him that way again. Derek, for his part, didn’t need to leave such marks on Stiles, though it was always fun. Any werewolf coming within ten feet of Stiles would be able to smell Derek as well, his scent so ingrained into Stiles that he practically sweated it.

When Derek pulled away, he closed his eyes and nosed at Stiles for a moment, letting the wolf take over as he followed the line of Stiles’ jaw, lips, and eyelids. He trusted his smell rather than his sight and inhaled the contentment and satisfaction that rolled off Stiles in waves. And finally, when he opened his eyes and met Stiles’ stupidly bright grin with one of his own, he realized something else: he was never going to need anyone else ever again.

His family’s death still hurt, and it always would, but each day with Stiles made that hurt a little less raw. Stiles made him forget that the last person he had loved betrayed him in the worst way possible, because he knew from the way that Stiles looked at him that there was no going back for either of them.

Derek had a mate. Derek had a mate. He had to physically stop himself from whooping with joy. He had never allowed himself even the possibility of this after Kate and his family, couldn’t even think about letting somebody in like that again.

But Stiles—wordy, mouthy, Adderall-addicted, literally cannot shut up to save his life Stiles—had forced his way in, had met and challenged every single wall Derek had put up to face him, and he was here to stay.

Just a little bit dizzy with realization, he kissed Stiles fervently, tasting sweat and reassurance. But just as swiftly as the moment had come, it was gone. Or more specifically, Stiles ruined it.

He pulled away from the kiss with a raised brow, looking Derek up and down critically.

“You’re not about to go howl at the moon or something, are you?” He asked, teasing but actually half-serious.

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Stiles,” he said fondly, and then, after a moment, added a half-hearted, “ _Awoooooo._ ”

Stiles’ answering cackle was enough to make him reconsider this whole “mate” thing after all.


End file.
